Misfortunes
by Irwein
Summary: PoR&RD. A series of short stories of Soren and his misfortunes with the Greil Mercenaries. Warnings: Slight character bashing, randomness, crack.
1. Princess

Note: Takes place during PoR, when the Greil Mercenaries get ready to leave their fort.

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_**Princess**_

_In which Mist likes the idea of Soren being a damsel in distress._

"Soren, show me your hands!"

Without waiting for further permission, Mist grabbed the unwilling mage's hands and began inspecting them eagerly. She paid no heed to the Wind tome that slipped from Soren's hands and onto the ground with a mute protest as she did so.

"What's the matter?" Soren _almost_ growled at her, but kept his tone neutral for the sake of whatever courtesy he might possess. He contented himself by trying to pull his hands out of Mist's grasp with little success, yet he didn't use more force than necessary unless he wanted to be rude and then be mauled to death by Ike -and probably, Boyd- for making Mist upset.

"Oh, I knew it!" Mist suddenly exclaimed (in the high pitched tone all girls apparently use when they found something _adorable_, much to Soren's annoyance). "Your hands are as slender and soft and delicate as Princess Elincia's!"

Momentarily stunned, Soren tried to straighten out his mind. "... Excuse me?"

The commander's daughter just _had_ to giggle at Soren's dumbstruck expression before adressing the matter at hand. "I meant you could be a princess! Now that I look at you, your looks are quite refined and... how do you say that? Oh, right, _exquisite!_" She pressed the palm of her small hand against Soren's and giggled again. Soren knew there would be bloodshed if Mist continued to spend more time with Princess Crimea. "Not to mention you're frail and need to stay behind the frontlines -I now wonder why I was always the damsel in distress when we were children!"

Soren finally regained his composture and coughed indignantly, pulling his hand away from Mist's.

"... Mist, in any case, I'd like to remind you that it's impossible in any sense for me to be a _princess._ If I ever achieved such title of nobility, I'd be refered to as 'prince' not 'princess.'"

The mage gave their silly conversation as wrapped up and walked past Mist, picking his now slightly crumpled Wind tome in the way. Whoever, it seemed like Mist had other ideas.

"Does that mean you could become a prince if someone kissed you?"


	2. Clad in White

Note: This one would take place at RD, whenever Soren promotes to Archsage.

_**

* * *

Clad in White  
**__In which Mia is convinced that Soren is her very archrival._

White and deep blue swayed around him as Soren walked briskly towards Ike's tent early in the morning, Mend Staff at the ready. He was supposed to have given it to Mist the night before to replace her broken Heal Staff but upon deliberation, the strategist had decided to hand it over to Ike together with his battle report the next day -which was in fact, the present day- and save himself the trouble of looking for the young healer.

Being as jumpy and paranoid as he was, he had also considered the fact that if there was an ambush or something to that excent before daybreak, it'd be easier to find Mist in the battlefield and hand over her new staff since she was hard to miss with the bulky -and tall- Boyd guarding her. In many senses, it was easier for him to wait a bit.

However, it seemed like another trouble was about to pounce at him. He had thought a Trueblade would be more silent and discreet when it came to following someone around but that didn't seem to be Mia's case.

Stopping dead in his tracks, he called out to the shadow that had jumped sideways to hide in the gap between tents the moment he did so. "Mia, if you have any business with me, please state so before I have to drag it out of you."

The energetic blue-haired girl appeared in a flash before him, practice sword at the ready. "Hah! You saw me coming, didn't you? Exactly what I would expect from my archrival! _En garde_, Soren!"

The Archsage leapt backwards, narrowly avoiding a swipe from the dull bronze weapon. "What's the matter with you?"

Soren had heard similar stories around camp of Mia attempting to attack anyone wearing white, being a poor Crimean Knight her last victim, but this was turning to be a ridiculously common occurrence.

"I got my fortune read in town one day," Mia explained, while she circled around Soren looking for a weakpoint to exploit. "The old lady told me my 'archrival clad in white would come riding towards me'! And then in the last battle I saw you wearing those new white robes... That must be it! You were destined to be my archrival!" She made another lunge, which would've cut off Soren's long dark locks neatly if he hadn't ducked in the last second.

"This is ridiculous! That's why you've been attacking everyone wearing white, starting with Rhys of all people?"

"Yes! I'm sure that that fortune teller is right! She had this very determined glint in her eye!" Mia continued swinging her practice sword unrelentlessly at Soren who could only dodge around the quick strokes. "Now I'm totally convinced it's _you_! Not even the Boss could've avoided all my hits like you do!"

_Maybe because Ike isn't as concerned as I am about getting his limbs cut off as he wears armor, _Soren thought sarcastically.

Mia ran at him and made a graceful backflip which Soren instinctively blocked with whatever he had in his hands -in other words, the Mend Staff and his battle report. The staff was surprisingly sturdy and didn't even receive as much as a scratch from Mia's sword; sadly, this couldn't be said about the battle report. Soren couldn't even utter the very rude words he had in mind when he had to hold up the staff to meet Mia's sword with every bit of strength he could muster. Even so, his arms began trembling like mad after a second of being under the pressure of the blade. Mia seemed very surprised that the Archsage could use a staff like that, an evil glint appearing in her eyes the very next moment which was followed by the bewildered look from the young man clad in white.

And that day, Soren discovered that a staff could save lives in more ways than one.

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A/N: I had planned to update this yesterday, but I played RD till I dropped... I was sad Reyson didn't made it to the best 5, lol. Anyways, thank you all for your feedback, especially both anonymous reviewers. I hope you enjoy this one while I drink some more soda to lure my muse out again C:


	3. If Looks could Kill

Note: This should happen when everyone gets to the Tower of Guidance, before they face the dragons (RD).

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_**If Looks could Kill  
**__In which Soren discovers the many meanings to that phrase._

"My beautiful friend! Please do not punish me with the lack of your glorious presence!"

He knew perfectly who was making all the ruckus in the tower as they climbed the stairs but did not bother to look back. Soren guessed whoever had the bad luck of getting stalked by Duke Tanas was receiving enough pitying looks. He looked on impassively without as much as blinking when Prince Kurthnaga rushed past him, climbing two to three steps with each stride. What he did was gape slightly when three seconds later, Duke Tanas passed him with such speed and... _bouncing _grace he was not aware a man of that age and constitution could possess.

Prince Kurthnaga suddenly stopped in his race; Soren noticed that the stairs where blocked by the very slowly advancing forms of Brom and Gatrie. In a desperate move, the prince dived in front of Soren, who was nearest to him in a poor attempt to appear insignificant next to somebody who was quite shorter than him. There's little need to say that Prince Kurthnaga did not succeed.

Duke Tanas gave a heartly huff and threw his arms around both Kurthnaga's and Soren's shoulders. "My, what a great find, my delightful dragon prince!" The familiar stench of sweat and blood reached Soren, who was now aware why the mild prince had been avoiding Duke Tanas' presence at any cost. The dangerously pointy Fortify Staff he clutched in his short and pudgy hand was covered in blood, as was the Duke himself.

"The graciously skilful tactician! I see now that his beauty is well-matched with ours!" The duke continued, dragging his two very unwilling companions up the stairs. "Let us march together to the enemy and kill them off with our good looks!"

Prince Kurthnaga looked quite ready to faint from Duke Tanas' bloody appearance and Soren could give anything that _his _look -more especifically, his _glare_- could kill off Duke Oliver of Tanas.


	4. Lady Killer

Note: This could take place after the base conversation in which Soren... persuades Aimee into giving him a discount in her shop (RD).

* * *

_**Lady Killer  
**__In which Gatrie wants an intensive course on how to woo a girl._

"I know what you did back there...!"

Soren hardly had a remorseful conscience, so he did not even jump at the attempt-of-creepy voice that came from behind him. Soren was also hardly unaware of his enviroment but being alerted by the clank of heavy armor and the stench of alcohol wasn't something to be proud of either. To say so in a simpler way is that Soren was only waiting for Gatrie to speak up.

"Ah, I just hope I can live after the humilliation I'll receive whenever you spill the beans to the whole camp to hear," the snappy reply came. Just what Gatrie expected too. The only problem was that he did not catch on the heavy amounts of sarcasm lacing Soren's words and thought of it as part of the tactician's speech, which wasn't all that unaccurate.

"Hah! So you _do_ care about your reputation after all, Soren buddy!" The Wind Sage didn't reply but he did catch on the silly triumphant grin pastered on Gatrie's face and eyed it warily. "Say... teach me how you do your stuff and I'll swear on my pretty chin that I won't breathe a word to anyone... ever."

Soren couldn't help but tilt his head to the side in confusion. What could he have just done that would've interested Gatrie...? There was only one thing that Gatrie was interested in, and that was women.

Oh. Soren's eyes narrowed, half afraid, half angry. Was the guy drunk enough to think he was actually a _she_ (wouldn't be the first time, either) He could only hope his suspicion was unfounded.

"Do you mean...?"

"Yes! What else? You _completely_ had Miss Aimee at your feet! I still don't understand well how you did it, but it was awesome! Please teach me how to woo a girl! I'm tired of being the one wooed here." Gatrie hiccuped.

Being the cold and collected Soren, he could not stutter or display any signs of insecurity. He was the tactician in charge, after all. His brain finally decided upon the best course of action.

"All right. There's one rule you should never forget: Do not ever break the eye-contact," Soren said slowly as he stood up, leaving his battle report as it was.

Gatrie's head bobbled in a resemblance of a nod as he tried to take in Soren's advice. The strategist continued, while circling around the armored knight, "Then you tell her the most... enlightening phrases you have in mind; make her feel like she's the most important woman in the face of Tellius."

"Ooh, I get it. She'll feel so elated she'll want more, right?"

"Very good."

"So I tell her stuff like, 'you're the only one I have eyes for' and 'you're the most precious diamond on the world'?"

"Yes. Gatrie, do you like stars?"

"Um, I guess? Do I say that to her too? Or why does it-"

"Because I'm _bringing them to you!_"

Ike rushed into the tent, sword at the ready, as he heard something very heavy smash against the ground with an unholy clamor. "Soren! What's-?"

The mage simply dusted off his trusty Elwind Tome. "He'll have a headache anyway," was the short explanation to the unprovocked attack on the Greil Mercenaries' number one womanizer.

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_-facepalms- Sorry for the utter silliness and OOC-ness in this one. It didn't feel as good as the first ones :'C  
Anyways, I'm a bad, bad, bad person for leaving you guys hanging in there. I sincerely apologize for my unwilling muse. Expect next one soon; might be the last one for a while since I don't have any other plot bunnies making nest nearby. If you like, you can send in your prompts/requests; I'll be happy to comply~ Until then!_


	5. Taste

Note: Around both PoR and RD is where this story could take place. That is, whenever Ilyana's joined the Greil Mercenaries.

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_**Taste  
**__In which Ike questions Soren's preferences throroughly._

Oscar seemed to be in a very good humour nowadays and when Ike asked about it, he said with certain relief that Soren was eating healthily for the first time since Oscar could remember. Ike made a mental note to check up on that that evening, because a Soren who eats his share is a first.

During dinner, the campsite is bustling with hungry soldiers and Ike joins in the queue for Oscar's lamb stew right behind Soren. The tactician did not look any different, still pale and slight and blunt when he asked Ike to stop gawking at him because he didn't have a bug slurping on his brains. Ike paid him no heed because it was Soren's turn to serve his own ration, and as Oscar had told him earlier, he did serve himself a healthy amount that could've rivalled Ike's own with a few more spoonfuls.

However, Soren barely ate more than his usual amount before leaving the campfire. Intrigued, Ike followed. He knew Soren detested wasting _anything_ which ruled out the possibility of him emptying his bowl at a lonely tree's feet.

_He's... putting his bowl in front of his tent...?_

"Soren?"

"Ike. Anything you need?" Soren straightened up as if putting one's unfinished dinner in front of one's tent was the most natural thing these days.

"Uh, I was wondering why you're putting your bowl here. I thought you hated wasting anything at all." He stared at the innocent looking lamb stew.

"I'm killing two birds with one stone," the shorter of the two answered without missing a beat.

"Care to elaborate?"

Soren simply gestured for Ike to follow him into his tent. "Don't say a word," he snapped when Ike opened his mouth. He pointed at the shadow of the bowl outside the tent. "Watch."

To Ike's surprise, someone's silouette tottered towards it, picked up the bowl and downed it very much like a famished laguz before leaving the abandoned bowl where it was and disappearing from sight.

"Was that Ilyana just now?" Ike asked dumbfounded.

"Yes. I did notice her stealing a lamb chunk from my plate the other day. I also did not appreciate several members of the army to ask for more boots since they're got theirs bitten by a famished girl. Well, since Oscar's so very worried about me keeling over from the lack of food, I thought of this like a means to solve two problems," Soren explained calmly.

Ike shook his head. "Soren, you've got a bad taste when it comes to pets, because Ilyana's not one kitten you pick out of the street!"

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_This made sense in my head, but now it doesn't.  
My muse took a long break; I can hardly think of anything else to write about. _Misfortunes_ is, for now, finished. Thank you so much for following this little series so far! I'm really moved by you guys, who read these silly oneshots (:_


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